


His Biggest Fan

by emmagrace13



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Basketball, Boyfriends, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 01:27:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14727368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmagrace13/pseuds/emmagrace13
Summary: It's game day!  Cyrus always goes to cheer for his best friend Buffy and, more recently, his boyfriend T.J..  Find out what happens at the big game!





	His Biggest Fan

**Author's Note:**

> Request: (1) I have so many prompts. how about a supportive bf Cyrus at one of TJ’s basketball games
> 
> I’m shook, I actually wrote this relatively fast (which I know you sent this in a long time ago but I just started working on it). Hope you enjoyed this (I also hope no one minds that I kept with this basketball theme, whoops). And let’s all collectively hope that I actually got this basketball lingo right, and if not then you can all laugh at me. Anyway, on with the story:

“Whoo!” Cyrus cheered from the stands, clapping incessantly.  “Go T.J. and Buffy!”

Andi cringed at her best friend’s exceptionally loud volume.  How could a boy so _small_ cheer so _loudly?_  “Cyrus, do you have to be so loud?” she exclaimed, shrinking away from him.

Cyrus smiled at Andi sheepishly, and he lowered his voice a fraction in order to appease her.  “Sorry. You know I love it when they score a touchdown!”

“It’s a basket,” Andi corrected.  She drew her eyebrows together, pausing as she second-guessed her own correction.  “I think?”

The two friends were currently gracing the gymnasium with their presence, just like they did with every other Jefferson Middle School basketball game.  Neither of them were ever exactly sure what was going on, but they were there to support Buffy, and, more recently, T.J., so understanding the game wasn’t usually their top priority.

“Really?” Cyrus asked in confusion.  He shook his head exasperatedly, and he scrunched up his face as he whined.  “I can’t keep up with all of these sports terms!”

Andi laughed.  “Don’t worry, no one’s asking you to,” she assured him.  Andi turned her attention back to the game with a twist of her head.  As her eyes focused on what was unfolding in front of her, she frowned and squinted uncertainly.  “Is there a break?”

Cyrus followed her line of sight, where each separate team had gathered on the opposite sides of the room, staying within their own group.  He searched for the ones clad in the blue-and-white uniforms, and he saw them all pat each other on the back supportively as they wiped the beads of sweat from their brows.  “Is this the intermission?” he asked in confusion, tilting his voice up on the last syllable.

Andi shook her head at him.  “No, Cyrus, they only have intermissions during plays,” she said, typing rapid, slurred keys on her phone (with probably a few typos in the search engine bar).  After a few seconds, she hummed in understanding. “It’s actually the game’s ‘halftime,’ like their halftime show,” Andi elaborated, clicking her phone off and stuffing it back inside her jacket pocket.

“Oh, okay.”  He only ever watched the halftime show on the Super Bowl.   Why watch football when you could watch Lady Gaga’s spectacular rendition of her own greatest hits?  “We really need to go outdoors more.”

They both exchanged a glance before bursting out into laughter.  Like _that_ was going to happen.

As the halftime show commenced, Cyrus examined the court once more, his eyes sweeping over Jefferson’s players, and he found T.J. skimming his eyes over the crowd in concentration as well.  When their eyes finally connected over the vast crowd, Cyrus waved excitedly at his boyfriend (his _boyfriend!_  It was still so exhilarating to say) from the bleachers that were overlooking the gym.

T.J. beamed back from his spot on the court, blushing bashfully, and Cyrus smiled in return.  “Do you think we should start chanting with our posters for the second half of the game?” he asked Andi, keeping a light gaze on T.J. as he spoke.

Andi shrugged.  “Why not?”

After the cheerleader’s impossibly complex cheer routine (how did they _bend_ that way?), Andi and Cyrus each held up a sign, one for Buffy and the other for T.J..

“Clever!” Andi remarked on the poster Cyrus’s holding up: _T.J. KIPPEN IS ALWAYS DRIBBLIN’!_

Cyrus grinned, proud of his poster.  It was decorated with bold, black letters, and the ‘i’s were even dotted with tiny little basketballs.  “Thanks! I had to ask T.J. to make sure that dribbling was a good thing, and then he went into a _long_ spiel about basketball that I didn’t understand _at all_ ,” he told her, his brow furrowed together.  He then smiled at the memory; he hadn’t exactly grasped what T.J. had been getting at, but it was still cute to see him ramble about something that he so obviously cared about.  “So I’m pretty sure it’s right.”

Andi snorted.  “Even _I_ know what dribbling is, Cyrus,” she said, holding up the other poster for Buffy.   _YOU CAN’T OUTUFF THE BUFF’!_

“Hey,” Cyrus defended himself lightly, “we all have our strengths and weaknesses,” he pointed out in a teasing manner.  Andi smiled and gave a gentle shake of her head in response.

As the game started back up again, the two friends started cheering for Buffy and T.J. again, both of them wishing the best for their friends.  Ever since Cyrus and T.J. had gotten together, Buffy and T.J. had (to everyone’s immediate surprise) been getting along, and T.J. now willingly passed her the ball multiple times a game if he had the chance.  Whether the two actually enjoyed each other’s company or were just doing it for Cyrus’s sake, Cyrus was grateful. He didn’t know what he’d do if his boyfriend (he grinned as he thought of the word; he didn’t think the effect the word had on him would ever wear off) and best friend despised each other.  

Jefferson snatched the ball from their green-and-white enemies, and Buffy dribbled strategically away from the defense.  She stealthily maneuvered herself out of the grasp of the Knights, but more and more of the players began to surround her, reminding Cyrus of how gnats surrounded a piece of spoiled fruit.  They were _unrelenting_.

Buffy glanced towards T.J. helplessly, and Cyrus could practically see the conflict in her eyes.  Should she try to make the shot herself, or should she try and give T.J. a try?

“Come on, Buffy,” Cyrus whispered desperately under his breath.  Buffy was one of the most athletically inclined people he had ever met, but sometimes she needed to trust and rely on her teammates.  While being confident in your skills isn’t necessarily a bad thing, Buffy could be _too_ sure of herself at times, and it got her into trouble.

Finally, after Buffy could no longer fight off the Knights’ defense by herself, she wildly hurled the ball to T.J., her last alternative, in desperation, and he caught it with ease.  He dribbled the ball against the gym floor swiftly, but, as he jumped up to make a two-pointer from his side angle, a Knights player swiped the bright orange ball from T.J.’s hands, knocking him down in the process with a sickening thud.  

Cyrus gasped at the action, standing up in shock as the entire gymnasium held bated breath.  In the distance, the whistle that normally hung around the coach’s neck was brought to Coach Anderson’s lips, causing a sharp hiss to echo throughout the gymnasium.  The referee then turned to the anxious crowd and made a ‘T’ with his hands, and Cyrus felt a hand land softly upon his shoulder as his stomach whirled. “Does that mean a timeout?

Cyrus couldn’t even answer; his mind was too busy reeling with worry for T.J..  What if he was hurt? Or worse, dead? His eyes darted around wildly in panic, hungrily searching for any shred of evidence that T.J. was okay, but he found none as Jefferson’s coach and the referee were both blocking the view of the basketball player.  Why wouldn’t the referee and coach just _move_?

“I’m going down there,” Cyrus said, determined.

 Andi’s eyebrows drew together.  “Cyrus, I’m not sure if you can do tha _—_ ”

“I just want to make sure he’s okay,” Cyrus assured her, trying to ignore the frenzy going on in his belly.  Cyrus snatched the towel he had brought (you’d be surprised by how much basketball players sweat!) just in case and some extra supplies before he descended down the steps, making sure to apologize to anyone he bumped into.  Once he finally hopped down onto the outskirts of the court, right next to the team huddle, he caught Buffy’s eye.

“Is he hurt?” Cyrus asked worriedly, a nauseated feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.  He hoped that she would reassure him; he did tend to imagine the worst things possible without her and Andi’s redirection.

Buffy shook her head frantically, shrugging as her hand came to comb back some loose tendrils that were obstructing her view.  “I don’t know. They won’t let me over there!” she said, her arms crossed in annoyance. Cyrus raised his eyebrows in surprise; maybe Buffy actually cared about T.J. more than he’d thought.

Cyrus opened his mouth to answer her, but the coach’s piercing whistle was blown again, shaking him from his train of thought.  As T.J. hobbled his way over to his teammates (plus Cyrus) with the help of Jefferson’s coach, he tried to give Cyrus one of his famous, sweet grins, but a sharp wince was drawn from his lips instead.  

“Ouch,” T.J. scowled as the coach eased him down onto the front row, the referee setting a chair by his feet.  He turned toward Cyrus, a slight grimace on his face. “THat guy made me twist my ankle,” he explained, and Cyrus let out a sigh of relief.   _He’s not dying_ , he told himself.  Cyrus breathed deeply as if to get rid of any leftover tension in his body.  What worrying could _do_ to a person!

Coach Anderson cast T.J. an apologetic look, but it was soon replaced with a stern expression.  “Driscoll, you’re filling in for Kippen,” he informed as T.J.’s carefully propped his leg on the chair in front of him.

Buffy looked shocked, albeit pleased.  She glanced towards T.J., expecting him to be furious.

“Go ahead,” he told her, a mock tone of exasperation lining his voice.  The mirth dancing in his eyes gave him away. “I know you’re dying to.”

Buffy smirked.  “I was going to accept whether you were happy about it or not,” she told him.  She turned to the coach, her demeanor changing from being smug to ecstatic within seconds.  “Thank you so much, Coach!” Buffy said, not bothering to hide her enthrallment. “I won’t let you down.”

Coach Anderson nodded once, seeming impatient as the delay of the game drew on longer.  “I wasn’t expecting you to. Now, go! We need to continue this game!”

Buffy bobbed her head eagerly, racing back onto the court with the rest of her teammates.  Cyrus sat down next to T.J., careful not to bump into his injured foot, and smiled at his best friend happily as he watched her give orders to her teammates.  “Thank you.”

T.J. glanced at him, and a soft smile grew on his face as he studied Cyrus’s face.  He raised his eyebrows at his boyfriend. “What for?”

Cyrus cautiously shuffled closer, tugging the towel he had draped around his neck and bringing it to T.J.’s forehead.  There were probably a million eyes on them, but Cyrus’s tried not to care, instead trying to focus on wiping away the moisture from T.J.’s brow.  “For trying to get along with Buffy.”

T.J. shrugged.  “She’s actually bearable,” he admitted.  “Getting along with her isn’t as hard as I thought.”

The corners of Cyrus’s mouth tugged upwards. “I’m glad.”  After wiping the beads of sweat from T.J.’s temple, Cyrus lowered the towel, carefully folding it and setting it aside.  “I brought you some water,” he offered, handing a bottle to T.J..

T.J. grinned lazily, but he winced when he leaned forward to grab it.  “Thanks,” he said, brushing over Cyrus’s hand so subtly that no one else but them would be able to catch it.  He gripped the bottle, gulping down its contents before wiping his mouth contently. “Thanks for cheering for me,” he mumbled into Cyrus’s ear, casting a shiver down the boy’s back.

Cyrus shook the feeling off, and tried for a wide smile.  “Would you expect anything less from your biggest fan?”

T.J. shook his head.  “Of course I wouldn’t.”  He scooted over as well as he could manage, bringing him and Cyrus side-to-side, and Cyrus had to hide his smile.   _He’s sly, I’ll give him that_ , Cyrus thought to himself.  As T.J. casually slung an arm around Cyrus’s shoulders (Cyrus noted that _that_ was sly, too), he turned his attention towards the game.  “Looks like Buffy’s managing pretty well,” T.J. observed aloud, gesturing towards the court with a dip of his head.  

Cyrus glanced in the direction T.J. had signaled to, and a proud feeling bloomed in his chest at the sight.  Buffy had just made a shot with the basketball, and her teammates patting her encouragingly on the back after her amazing toss into the basket.  “And you said she wouldn’t make the team,” Cyrus teased.

T.J. sighed.  “I was wrong,” he admitted, glancing at Cyrus.  His hand absentmindedly reached up, brushing against the nape of Cyrus’s neck, and Cyrus blushed in response.  “Don’t tell Buffy that, though,” T.J. added as an afterthought.

Cyrus laughed, and the two kept a steady gaze, causing a ripple of butterflies in Cyrus’s stomach to flutter.   _I love his eyes_ , Cyrus noted dreamily.   _And his smile, and his hair, and his mouth…_

A wave of cheers erupted from the stands, breaking the two boys from their stare; Buffy had made _another_ shot for Jefferson.  

Cyrus’s gaze flitted back over to the court, and he gave a slightly delayed response to Buffy’s basket.  “Go Buffy!” He noticed T.J.’s amused expression, and he grinned. “What? I can still manage to cheer for her without my posters.”

T.J. just shook his head with a slight grin on his face.  His boyfriend could be _so_ adorable.  “I know, I know.”

For the rest of the game, Cyrus asked T.J. questions about the sport that he wasn’t for sure on (the list included “What does a shooting guard do?” and “Why doesn’t the basketball team wear better uniforms?”), all to which T.J. responded to almost automatically, and Cyrus was glad that the boy was humoring him.  

After Buffy made the winning shot for Jefferson (Cyrus’s voice was _still_ hoarse from the shouting that had induced), Cyrus aided T.J., wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s torso while T.J. slung his arm around his shoulders.  The two walked as seamlessly as they could manage, but, with Cyrus controlling both of their movements, it didn’t end up so well.

“Ow, ow,” T.J. winced as Cyrus tripped over the threshold, and Cyrus paused by the wall.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he apologized, rubbing a hand over his flushed face.  Luckily, before he started to move again, an elated Buffy found them, nearly squealing with excitement.

“We won!” Buffy exclaimed, throwing her arms around Cyrus.  She accidentally hit T.J. in the process, and he grimaced at the action but didn’t say anything.

“I know, I’m so proud of you!” Cyrus said, just as enthused as she was.  “Did you hear me cheering for you?”

Buffy raised an eyebrow incredulously.  “Hear you? Cyrus, you were the loudest one out there! _Of course_ I heard you.”

Cyrus smiled.  “Thanks, I try.”  He glanced over at T.J., who had an amused expression adorning his face at the two’s exchange.

Buffy’s gaze shifted to T.J., and she had a smug smile on her face.  “I did good, didn’t I?”

“I don’t know about that,” T.J. protested, but he grinned, showing that he was joking.  “Nice job, Driscoll. Don’t get used to being captain.”

Buffy said cockily, “I’ll be taking over soon enough.”  As she spoke, the scanned the two boys questioningly.“Do you need help?  I don’t think Cyrus can manage to walk you out by himself.”

Cyrus heaved a sigh of relief.  “Yes, _please!_ ”  

Buffy laughed giddily, the last few moments of the game still ticking behind her eyelids, and she took over T.J.’s other side.  Fortunately, with Buffy acting as T.J.’s left crutch, the three of them managed to get to the outdoor picnic tables without too much hassle.  

“Ugh,” Buffy grunted, removing herself from T.J.’s side.   _Jeez,_ Cyrus was really no help when it came to strength.  “So, are you in for some post-celebratory tater-tots?” she asked her best friend hopefully.  

Cyrus grinned.  “I’ll be there!” he promised.  

As she stalked off, leaving them with one last squeal of excitement, T.J. awkwardly straddled the picnic table bench, allowing his wounded foot to settle on Cyrus’s lap while his other one was tucked underneath him.  

For a moment, the two of them sat in silence, watching Buffy talk to Andi animatedly about a play-by-play of the game as they walked to The Spoon together.  Then, once the girls were out of their sight, Cyrus squeezed T.J.’s shoulder comfortingly. “Hey, I know you didn’t get to play a lot today, but I’m proud of you, too, you know.”

“So I’ve heard,” T.J. quipped.  He glanced around at the vacant space around them and, after making sure there were no prying eyes around, he kissed Cyrus chastely on the cheek.  “Thank you for always being my biggest fan.”

Cyrus felt his heart drum rapidly in his chest at the action, and he beamed at him.  “Of course.” After all, would T.J. expect anything less from his boyfriend?

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you all enjoyed this prompt! I’ll be working on the 6 other requests I have (hard to believe people have sent in that many, right?! I’m excited). Please reblog or like this post and don’t forget to check it out on AO3 and fanfiction.net. Thank you!
> 
> ~emmagrace13


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